


What Happens in Rome

by lfg1986



Series: Across the Map [1]
Category: Call Me By Your Name (2017) RPF
Genre: Angry Armie, Angst, Blow Jobs, Boys Kissing, M/M, Smut, Teeny bit of fighting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-10
Updated: 2019-06-10
Packaged: 2020-04-23 20:57:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,866
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19158847
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lfg1986/pseuds/lfg1986
Summary: Armie gets snubbed for the Oscar nomination for Call Me By Your Name and is furious.  He's ready to quit the months-long promo tour for the movie because he just doesn't give a fuck anymore.  But when Timmy goes into his hotel room in Rome to talk to him, everything changes.This is my version of what happened to make Armie change his mind about quitting the promo tour, and also the beginning of Tracksuit Gate.  ;)





	What Happens in Rome

**Author's Note:**

> I've had this prompt in my head FOR FOREVER, and an opportunity presented itself for me to finally get it written (more on that later), so here we are, lol. This starts pretty angsty but I promise it won't be an unhappy ending. ;)
> 
> I hope you enjoy! <333

The hotel room door slams shut behind him as Armie storms through it, huffing and clenching his fists, desperately wishing he had his punching bag with him.  He needs to hit something, _anything_ , but he doesn’t want to cause any actual damage to the hotel room.  Like he’d ever be able to deal with that PR nightmare on top of everything else right now.  Still, he can’t stop himself from angrily sweeping his hands across the desk table, sending the collection of scripts, contracts, and other assorted papers that had been neatly stacked on it flying in all directions, his tablet meeting the carpet with a soft thud.  He starts pacing back and forth across the small space of the hotel room, kicking papers out of his path as he crosses from one side to the other and back again.

 

He’d been a fool to believe all the obviously fake praise and flattery Sony had been whispering in his ear for months, assuring him they were backing him one hundred percent in the Oscar campaign.  It wasn’t even something Armie had wanted or even considered to be an option at first.  He never expected to be praised or awarded for his performance.  It’s not why he took the role, and after they finished shooting, he honestly thought that even if no one ever saw the movie, it would still be one of the best experiences he’d ever had, and that was reward enough for him. 

 

But then the movie got such great reviews and miraculously won over pretty much everyone who saw it, and both his and Timmy’s performances were being lauded by audiences and critics alike.  So when the studio started throwing around the idea of trying to get them both Oscar nominations, Timmy for Best Actor and him for Supporting, he couldn’t help but get swept up in the excitement a bit.

 

But just as he was starting to have actual hope of being taken more seriously as an actor and not just another pretty face, it was all ripped away from him because the studio fucked him over.  He’s been busting his ass for months promoting this movie, which he used to believe in.  But right now, he can’t seem to give one single fuck about any of it anymore.  He’s done.  They can all go fuck themselves.

 

He’s faced away from the door when he hears it slide open, pauses mid-stride and hangs his head down, letting out a tired sigh.  “Now’s really not a good time, Tim.  Please, just go back downstairs and do the interview without me.” 

 

He doesn’t turn to look at his young co-star, knowing that as soon as he does, the fire in his gut will die out and all he’ll be left with is bitter disappointment.  No, right now he wants to fan the flames of his anger.  He _needs_ it.  Timmy wouldn’t understand.  He needs him to go before he sees a side of him Armie’s not sure he’s ready for Timmy to see yet.

 

“I’m not going anywhere until you talk to me.”  Timmy’s voice is soft but confident, determined.  It’s clear he’s not going to be easily convinced to go, but Armie’s not sure he can handle him being there right now.  It’s all too much.  He feels like he’s drowning in false hope and broken promises, elevated expectations cruelly smashed to pieces on the rocks of his own mediocrity.  They’ve only been in Rome for an hour and already he’s dying to get as far away from there as possible, away from the press, the fans, Luca.  _Timmy_.

 

Timmy doesn’t move further into the room, still hovering awkwardly by the door, but when it’s clear he’s not going to leave, either, Armie clenches his hands into fists at his side and goes to sit on the edge of the bed, still facing away from Timmy.  He presses his balled-up fists to his tightly clenched eyes until he can see tiny spots dancing behind his eyelids.

 

He can hear blood rushing in his ears, the rhythmic thumping of his heartbeat giving him something to focus on, to keep him from totally losing it.  He decides to count to ten slowly to try and calm himself down, taking a deep breath after each number.  It’s something he learned from his first therapist when he was only 14, forced to go because his parents worried that his rebellious behavior would lead him down a dark path if he didn’t straighten up.  If only they knew how much they contributed to his desire to set things on fire.

 

He only gets to six before he feels the mattress dip next time him, a cautious, gentle hand landing just above his knee, squeezing lightly.  He knows Timmy means well, wants to make him feel better.  And the logical side of him appreciates the concern.  But he’s not in a very logical headspace right now, and the gesture causes more irritation that anything else.  He doesn’t want to be comforted right now.  He wants to lash out at something, _someone_ , and he doesn’t want it to be Timmy.  He’s the last person that deserves his ire, but he’s not sure he can keep himself from losing control right now.  He rubs his fists into his eyes again roughly in frustration.

 

“ _Timmy_ …”  His voice is dark, a clear warning that he should proceed with caution, or better yet, retreat and leave him to the darkness.

 

“I’m not. going. anywhere.”  Timmy voice remains calm but absolute, his hand gripping Armie’s knee tighter, and despite his sour mood, Armie had to give him props.  Armie has been described as intimidating even on a good day, simply due to his massive stature.  But when his temper flares up?  People twice Timmy’s size have been known to flee in terror, while Timmy willingly walked directly into the line of Armie’s wrath.  The kid can hardly look people in the eyes when doing interviews, but apparently he doesn’t think twice about handling all 6’5” of a hulking, pissed off Armie.  It’s actually rather impressive.

 

Armie sighs and drops his hands from his face, takes two more slow breaths before finally opening his eyes to meet Timmy’s.  He’s on the edge of a knife and he fears which way he will inevitably fall.  “I don’t…what do you want me to say, Timmy?  That I’m upset?  _Of course_ , I’m upset!  I’m furious, actually.  And I hate that I care so much.  I didn’t want to get my hopes up in the first place, but they kept _assuring me_ that it was a done deal and I just… _fuck_!  I hate that I’ve put so much energy and time away from my kids into promoting this movie, and now it’s all for nothing!”  He’s practically yelling now and he can see the way Timmy flinches slightly at his words, but he’s too worked up to stop himself.  He shoots off the bed, Timmy’s hand slipping from his leg as he begins pacing the floor again, the fire in his belly lighting anew.

 

“It’s _not_ for nothing.”  Timmy’s tone takes on a dangerous edge now, feeding off Armie’s frustration and throwing it back to him.  “I know this whole thing sucks, but this movie is important and people are being affected by it in amazing ways.  The rest of it is just politics and bullshit.  You were the one who told me that, remember?”  Timmy stands slowly and moves toward him, reaching a hand out to stop his dizzying movements.

 

But the second Timmy’s hand connects with his arm, delicate fingers wrapping around taut muscle, Armie snaps and wrenches himself out of Timmy’s grasp.  “That’s easy for you to say!  _You’re_ the one who got nominated!”

 

He regrets the words the second they pass his lips.  The instant devastation on Timmy’s face makes him forget how to breathe, like someone is squeezing his lungs in a vice grip and he’s unable to draw in any new air.

 

“Oh fuck, Timmy.  I didn’t mean that, I swear.  I… _shit_.  I’m so sorry.”  He takes a step toward Timmy but Timmy immediately backs away.  He wants to die, can’t handle seeing the betrayed look in Timmy’s eyes.

 

Seconds of tense silence stretch out between them, Timmy staring resolutely at the floor and Armie gaping in horror at his own ability to break the precious boy standing in front of him like some kind cheap toy.  Timmy deserves so much more than that.  He deserves _everything_.

 

“Fuck, Timmy.  Timmy, look at me, please.”  When Timmy doesn’t raise his eyes, Armie reaches out a hand to cup his cheek, slowly so as not to startle him.  Timmy doesn’t reject the touch so he takes that as a positive sign.  “ _Please_.” 

 

The few seconds it takes Timmy to finally lift his gaze feels like an eternity.  But then teary green eyes connect with crystal blue, and Armie feels like he’s drowning for a totally different reason now.

 

“I’m so, so sorry, Tim.  I’m so fucking proud of you, you know that, right?  To achieve something like this at such a young age is incredible.  _You’re_ incredible, and you deserve every fucking award on the planet.  You should be damn proud of what you’ve done.  And don’t let me or anyone else ever make you feel otherwise.”  He pulls Timmy to him in a tight hug, and Timmy falls against him hard, clinging to the back of his shirt and burying his face in his neck.

 

Armie strokes his mess of curls soothingly and lets Timmy ride out his emotions against him.  They both are exhausted from all the long hours of flying from city to city and they need a safe place to release their built-up tension.  That place almost always seemed to be with each other lately.

 

When Timmy has gathered himself a little more, he pulls back from Armie’s embrace with an embarrassed look, reaching a hand behind him to scratch nervously at his neck.  He shakes his head and lets out an incredulous huff.  “Fuck, man.  I’m supposed to be the one comforting _you_ , not the other way around.”  His lips twist up in a small smile, obviously trying to lighten the mood a bit.

 

And it works, because Armie can’t hold back his own snort of amusement at the absurdity of the situation.  He can’t believe how much happened between them in the whole five minutes since Timmy walked in.  He mirrors Timmy’s head shake and sighs.  “Nah man, it’s ok.  I was way out of line; I never should have taken my frustration with the studio out on you.”  He scrubs a hand over his face, scratching lightly at his beard.

 

“Maybe, but you have every right to be upset.  What they did was messed up, and I hate that it fucked everything up for you.  You deserve to be nominated just as much as I do.”

 

Armie snorts again, this time in disbelief.  “Yeah, right…” He moves to turn away, but Timmy’s hand on his arm stops him.

 

“I mean it, Armie.  Your performance was breathtaking, and if the idiots over at the Academy can’t see that, then it’s their loss.  This does not define who you are as an actor.”  Timmy sounds so damn sincere, his intense gaze piercing into his very soul, it’s almost impossible to argue with him.

 

Still, he can’t bring himself to agree out loud with his words, because he honestly didn’t know if he truly believed it.  But to appease Timmy in the moment, he gives a small nod and swallows thickly before clearing his throat.  He moves over to where his suitcase lays half-open by the dresser, abandoned when he’d gotten the call to come downstairs for the news.  He hadn’t even had a chance to change out of the tracksuit he’d worn on the plane.

 

He can hear Timmy drop onto the mattress behind him with a sigh.  “So should we try to grab an early lunch before we get stuck in interviews for hours?  I’m already starving.”

 

Armie hesitates, kneeling on one leg as he rifles through his bag to find his aspirin.  He can already feel a bitch of a headache forming behind his eyes and wants to nip it in the bud before it makes his mood even worse.  He doesn’t want to ruin their truce, but he knows he needs to tell him.  It’s not fair to let him think things are just going to be fine now.  “Tim, I think you’re gonna have to go on without me for a while.”  He can’t bring himself to turn around, can’t risk seeing the disappointment on Timmy’s sweet face again.

 

But Timmy seems to have misread his intentions.  “That’s ok man, we can always just order something to the room instead.”

 

Armie closes his eyes and lets out a slow breath.  Standing up and turning around, he meets Timmy’s eyes in apology.  “No, I mean…I mean the press tour.  I can’t…I think I’m done, Tim.  It’s too much, and after today, I just can’t find it in me to give a shit about any of it anymore.”

 

He sees Timmy’s mouth drop open in shock, can see the protests forming on his lips before any actual words come out.  “What the fuck are you _talking_ about, Armie?!  You can’t just quit on me like that!  We need you.  _I_ need you!”

 

Armie runs a hand through his hair roughly and sighs.  “You don’t need me, you just think you do.  But trust me, dude, you’re doing fine all on your own.  And now with the nomination…man, you’re killing it.  It’s your turn to shine.  I just need a break.  I feel like I’m about to lose my goddamn mind here, and if I stay I’m just going to drag you and everyone else down with me.  The movie deserves better than that.  It’s really for the best that I just bow out gracefully at this point.”  He speaks softly, gently, desperate for Timmy to understand.

 

But Timmy just shakes his head, obviously not satisfied with his answer.  “No, you don’t mean that.  You’re just upset right now, but I promise once you calm down, things will be fine.”  Timmy’s optimism would be charming if it wasn’t currently breaking his damn heart.

 

Armie lets out a frustrated groan.  “No, _fuck_ , Timmy, you just don’t get it.”  He closes his eyes on another sigh, tries to figure out how to explain without making things worse.

 

Before he can continue, Timmy’s in his space, slender fingers curling around his biceps and gaze piercing his soul.  “ _Then explain it to me_.”  It’s a challenge –  a strategic, determined attack on his ability to resist Timmy’s charms.  _Damn him_.

 

Because Timmy knows that Armie’s willpower when it comes to Timmy is practically non-existent.  Which is exactly why his being so close right now is so dangerous.  Because if he were going to explain the _real_ reason he needed to get away from all this, it would ruin everything.

 

Just the thought of going through another several weeks of answering the same questions about his relationship with Timmy, both on and off screen, in addition to being practically joined at the hip on their off time, was enough to make him want to throw himself out the window of this hotel room.  Because every day they’re together, every time Timmy jokes about how everything that happened in the movie happened in real life, too, every time Timmy says Armie’s his _brother_ , he dies a little bit more inside.

 

The constant ache in his chest whenever he’s near Timmy these days is slowly driving him to madness.  He’s tried to push it away, tried to convince himself it’s just a belated sense of character bleed as they’ve been constantly having to relive the experience of their intensely intimate and sensual time together while shooting the movie.  Tried to tell himself that he’s just frustrated and horny because Elizabeth isn’t around and Timmy has such soft and delicate features that just happen to also align with his personal beauty ideal, so it’s perfectly natural for Timmy’s face to occasionally pop up in his fantasies while he’s jerking himself off furiously in the shower.

 

And all that worked…until it didn’t.  And now it’s gotten to the point where it’s nearly impossible to be in such close proximity to Timmy without wanting to touch him, hold him, confess things to him that he has no business even _feeling_ , let alone actually saying out loud.  Maybe this whole Oscars snub thing was actually a blessing in disguise, giving him a way out of this mess with the last shred of his sanity and dignity still intact.

 

He swallows, tries to focus his attention back on the matter at hand.  “I just…”  He pauses, breath coming in short and shaky puffs.  _He’s too close_.  It’s all too much.  “I need…”  Timmy’s thumb starts rubbing small circles on his arm and he loses his train of thought.

 

“What do you need?”  Timmy’s voice is gentle and pitched higher than normal, meant to soothe and calm, but only serves to ignite a flame somewhere deep within him.  _What did he need?_   Did he even know?

 

He can feel the last of his control slipping, the adrenaline rush from his anger earlier ebbing away and being replaced once again with the desperate desire that has been slowly consuming him for weeks now.  He opens his mouth to try to speak, to try to force a bit of distance between them so he can build the walls back up around himself, but when he sees Timmy’s eyes briefly flick to his mouth as it opens, all thoughts fly out of his head and he just stares.

 

“You can tell me, Armie.  I will do whatever you want.  Please, just don’t leave me alone with this.  Tell me what it will take to make you stay.”

 

And maybe it’s the way Timmy voice takes on a desperate edge, or the way his eyes slowly slide from his lips back to his eyes, peering up at him from under his long lashes with a pleading look that rips his heart wide open.  Or maybe it’s seeing Timmy standing there, so completely open and willing to let Armie take whatever he needs from him, and it’s more than Armie can handle.  His control evaporates with Timmy’s breathy, whispered “Please”, and before he can think about the consequences long enough to talk himself out of it, he surges forward and smashes his mouth to Timmy’s in a needy kiss.

 

Timmy’s surprised grunt breaks him free of his lust-induced haze and he pulls away, stumbles backwards several steps as Timmy’s hands let go of his arms to fly up to his touch his own lips in shock.

 

Armie stares, horrified, for a few dead-silent seconds before he finally starts rambling his apologies.  “Oh shit, oh my god, Timmy, I’m so sorry.  _Fuck_!  I didn’t mean to do that.  I’m such an asshole.  I can’t believe I fucked everything up twice in a matter of minutes.  FUCK.”

 

His mind is desperately trying to figure out what he can do to fix this or undo it or   _something_ when Timmy’s voice cuts through his thoughts and his eyes snap back up to look at him.  “Armie, _stop_.”

 

Timmy is staring at him with an unreadable expression on his face, and this might actually be worse than outright anger, because Armie honestly doesn’t know what he’s going to do or say next.

 

Which is why he’s caught completely off guard when Timmy copies Armie’s move and brings their mouths together again, this time Timmy’s hands coming up to grip the sides of his face hard as he throws his whole body into the kiss.

 

It’s Armie’s turn to grunt in surprise, but Timmy swallows the sound as he opens his mouth to lick his way into Armie’s.  When Armie’s brain finally catches up and he realizes that _Timmy is kissing him for real_ , he immediately parts his lips for Timmy’s insistent tongue as a moan slips out of his throat.

 

Armie’s brain shorts out again, leaving him with only the warm, silky sensation of Timmy’s wet lips sliding against his own to focus on.  This is something they’ve done a hundred times before, and there’s a sense of familiarity and almost comfort in the way Timmy’s tongue traces the edges of his teeth before plunging deep into his mouth.  And yet, this is _nothing_ like they’ve ever done before.  It’s charged with real heat and desire, no cameras or audiences around to play to.  It’s just the two of them, giving into something he’s not even sure how to describe, but he knows how it feels.

 

Somewhere, in the far reaches of his mind, he knows he should feel guilty about this.  Should be thinking about what this could do to Liz, and the kids, and his career, and his whole goddamn life that he’s been building.  But he can’t.  When he stormed into the room fifteen minutes ago, he’d felt completely untethered, and right now the only thing keeping him from floating away is the anchor of Timmy’s mouth pressed tightly to his own.

 

He doesn’t know which one of them starts walking them toward the bed, but suddenly the backs of his knees are hitting the mattress and he’s tumbling backwards onto it, Timmy following him down hard, their mouths only parting for the few seconds necessary to recover from the awkward landing before they’re scrambling to devour each other again.

 

Timmy’s hands are everywhere – in his hair, gripping his arm, sliding down his back and cupping his ass briefly before moving back to grab his face.  But the only thing Armie can focus on is his mouth.  He’s always been fascinated with Timmy’s mouth, not only it’s unique shape and almost unnaturally pink coloring, but also the way Timmy uses it.  The way he bites at his lower lip in a way that can be both nervous and seductive.  Or the way he sometimes over-enunciates his words, making the movements of his lips around his teeth even more exaggerated than normal.  Or how he can’t seem to keep his tongue from slipping out at every possible opportunity.  Or how his cupid’s bow is just the tiniest bit uneven, which somehow encapsulates the essence of Timmy more than anything else.  Perfect in his imperfections.

 

They continue to ravish each other’s mouths for several minutes, Timmy sprawled on top of Armie, until Timmy finally pulls back so they can breathe.  Armie’s head is swimming and his eyes hazy with lust, but when Timmy takes a deep breath and leans back on his knees to strip his shirt off, Armie’s heart threatens to leap out of his chest.

 

Timmy’s hands drop back to Armie’s torso, and he slides his slender fingers delicately up the length of his chest until he reaches the zipper at the top of Armie’s tracksuit jacket.  Armie watches in rapt attention, holding his breath in anticipation until Timmy starts to drag the zipper down ever-so-slowly.  Then something in his brain kicks into gear and he has a moment of panic.

 

When he’d kissed Timmy earlier, he was acting on pure instinct and need, not having any kind of plan or thought to what might happen next.  But now things are clearly headed in a direction that they won’t be able to come back from, and he’s not sure he’s prepared for it.

 

He brings a hand up to circle around Timmy’s thin wrist, stilling his movements.  “Wait, wait.”  He sees Timmy’s eyes fill with dread and his heart clenches.  “Don’t you want to talk about this first?”  He’s honestly shocked Timmy hasn’t plied him with a thousand questions yet, since that’s normally how he works through things.

 

Armie sees Timmy’s eyes drop down to where Armie is holding his wrist, then the slow, sensual drag back up his body to meet his gaze again.  He stops breathing while he waits for Timmy to answer.  But Timmy just gives a slight shrug and a shy smile.  “Not really.  I mean…do _you_?”  Timmy bites his lip nervously, the slightest hint of tongue peeking out, and Armie loses his train of thought as he stares at that perfect, sinful mouth for a few seconds.

 

Eventually he tears his eyes away from Timmy’s mouth and focuses back on his eyes again.  “I just…I want to make sure you actually _want_ this, and you’re not just…I don’t know, doing this because you think it will make me stay or whatever.”  He can’t risk fucking this up now.  Timmy is too important to him to not handle this with the proper care.

 

Timmy’s smile widens to spread over his entire face, and it’s almost blinding.  He nods his head vigorously, a few messy curls falling into his eyes at the movement.  “Yes, I want.  I want _very much_.”  Before Armie can even process his answer fully, Timmy is diving back down to kiss him again, their joined hands trapped between them.

 

Armie smiles into the kiss, finally letting his anxiety subside as he melts into Timmy’s touch.  As long as Timmy is fully on board, he can forget everything else that happened today and just focus on the salvation of Timmy’s body against his in this moment.  It’s the only thing that matters anymore.

 

Timmy arches his chest away from Armie’s a few inches to continue unzipping Armie’s jacket, but he keeps their mouths sealed together, desperate to keep them connected as much as possible.  Once it’s open, Armie leans them both up and shimmies his arms out of the fabric.  He starts to roll them over so he can hover over Timmy, but Timmy puts a hand on his now bare chest to stop him.

 

Timmy pulls away reluctantly, causing Armie to frown in confusion.  “Waitwaitwait.”  Timmy’s words all rush out together, both of them breathless and panting.  Before Armie can freak out too much, Timmy gives him a wicked grin.  “I want to taste you.”

 

The moan he makes as Timmy scoots down the bed, trailing open-mouthed kisses all down his chest, sounds like it came straight out of a porno movie.  Timmy pauses to lick tiny circles around his belly button, then nipping gently at the taut skin of his stomach, and Armie draws in a sharp breath at the unexpected pleasure that sensation brings him.  They would _definitely_ need to revisit this area at a later time.

 

But for now, Timmy is ready to continue his journey down Armie’s body.  When he reaches the waistband of Armie’s track pants, he nuzzles his face against them before biting down on the fabric and dragging it down.  Armie almost chokes on his tongue at the sight, eyes rolling back in his head as he feels his pants slowly sliding down to uncover his very hard cock underneath.  He manages to gather enough braincells to lift his hips to help Timmy with his efforts in undressing him.  Timmy eventually gives up using his teeth when it becomes too awkward and he impatiently yanks the pants the rest of the way off with his hands before licking his lips wantonly and moving his face back to hover directly over Armie’s thick, throbbing cock.

 

The first puff of hot air from Timmy’s mouth on his dick makes him shiver and moan again.  “Oh fuck, Timmy.”  Timmy looks up at him with the naughtiest smirk he’s ever seen and winks seconds before opening his mouth wide and sliding down to take as much of Armie in his mouth as he can.

 

The heat that engulfs him is exquisite, and he forgets how to breathe for several seconds until Timmy releases his dick with a wet ‘pop’.  He looks down and sees Timmy smiling like the cat who got the canary, bright red lips shiny and wet with a mixture of spit and his own precome, and he can’t stop himself.  Before Timmy lowers his mouth over him again, he reaches down and grabs Timmy’s jaw with one hand, gently tracing his thumb over the velvety skin of his lower lip.

 

Timmy closes his eyes and lets out a small whining sound, then snakes his tongue out to get a small taste of Armie’s thumb as it makes another pass over his lip.  When Timmy’s eyes pop open again and connect with Armie’s, the look of pure heat that passes between them is enough to set his entire body on fire.

 

Timmy swirls his tongue over Armie’s thumb one more time before Armie’s hand falls helplessly to the mattress, ready to let Timmy do whatever the fuck he wants with that mouth.  Timmy licks over his lips where Armie had just been, which causes Armie to whimper and toss his head back against the mattress.  If he watches any more of this, he’s going to come in about five seconds, and he wants to make this last.

 

He hears Timmy chuckle, and the sound sends shockwaves throughout his whole body.  When Timmy finally slides his mouth back down over him, he’s so hard it actually aches, the reality of having Timmy suck him so much better than any fantasy his mind could ever dream up.

 

Despite his best efforts, it doesn’t take long for Armie to feel like he’s speeding towards his climax.  Timmy somehow knows exactly how and where to lick, suck, and tease him to make him lose control in record time.  He’s got one hand twisted in Timmy’s wild, sweaty curls and the other reached behind him to grip the headboard for dear life when he feels the telltale tingle in his balls.

 

The hand in Timmy’s hair tightens frantically.  “Timmy!  Timmy, I’m close, man.”  They hadn’t discussed this part, and he knows it’s not fair to just assume Timmy will want him to come in his mouth, even if he desperately wants to do just that.

 

But it turns out his worries are for naught because at Armie’s warning, Timmy hums around him and then hollows out his cheeks as he sucks him hard.  Armie tips over the edge with a series of grunts and low moans, as Timmy swallows like a champ around him.  But just as the last few spurts of come are dribbling out of him, Timmy suddenly pulls his mouth off and holds his twitching cock right to his closed lips, small ribbons of white landing on swollen pillows of red.

 

Armie is propped up on his elbows, eyes going impossibly wide as he watches.  If he was capable of coherent thought at that moment, he probably would have a lot to say about the sight in front of him.  As it is, he only manages a choked “Hnnnnnggggghfff” sound that he hopes properly conveys how mind-meltingly hot Timmy looks with his come dripping down his lips.

 

When Timmy crawls back up Armie’s body to hover over his blissed-out face, grinning mischievously at him before slipping his tongue out to lap at the mess on his lips, Armie thinks that maybe Timmy is actually trying to _kill him_.  In lieu of higher cognitive function, primal instinct takes over and he leans up to smash their faces together in a bruising kiss, the leftover come smearing over both of their faces.

 

He thinks he hears Timmy mutter “Oh fuck” as they clash together, but he’s too busy chasing the taste of himself in Timmy’s mouth to know for sure.  This time Timmy lets himself be rolled over as Armie uses his whole body to pin Timmy underneath him.

 

Timmy keens and bucks his hips up into Armie frantically, his jeans rubbing against Armie’s too-sensitive cock as he chases his own pleasure.  Armie’s halfway into reaching his hand down to remove Timmy’s pants when Timmy lets out a strangled cry into Armie’s mouth and claws at Armie’s back, holding on as he shudders against him.

 

When Timmy finally relaxes and falls back against the mattress, Armie looks down at him in shock.  “Wait, did you just…?”

 

Timmy looks away in embarrassment and bites at his already impossibly swollen lips.  “Uh.  Yeah.  Sorry.”

 

Armie’s expression shifts into one of awe.  “Oh fuck, Timmy.  No, don’t apologize.  That’s…incredibly hot.”

 

Timmy shifts his gaze back to Armie with a shy smile.  “Really?”

 

Armie’s face breaks out in an adoring smile.  “ _Yes_ , you goofball.”  He leans in to press a gentle kiss to Timmy’s lips, making sure to clean away the last of the remaining mess of his come.  Then he places tiny kisses to Timmy’s nose and eyes until Timmy starts giggling and pushing him away with a whined “ _Arrrmiiiieee_!”

 

Armie laughs and flops over onto his back beside Timmy, feeling lighter than he can remember in the past several months.  They both settle and Timmy rolls over to lay his head on Armie’s chest, the two of them just breathing quietly together for several minutes without speaking.

 

Eventually, Timmy’s soft voice breaks through his post-orgasmic haze.  “So are you really quitting the press tour?  I mean, it just won’t be the same to have Elio without his Oliver.”  Timmy turns his head to press a soft kiss to the skin above his heart and Armie fills with warmth.

 

He’s quiet for several seconds, trying to mull over his options now that things have taken this unexpected turn with Timmy.  His eyes wander around the room, landing on his discarded outfit where it lays in a heap on the floor.  Finally, he makes a decision.  “Ok, I’ll stay.  Under two conditions.”

 

Timmy raises his head to be able to look in his eyes as he speaks.  He nods slowly, the side of his mouth twisting up into a small smile.  “Ok, what are they?”

 

Armie reaches over and pushes a loose curl back behind Timmy’s ear.  “One: I’m tired of having to dress up in a bunch of stiff, uncomfortable outfits every day for these press junkets.  It’s a pain in the ass.  If I’m going to keep doing them, I’m wearing what _I_ feel comfortable in.  Like my tracksuits.”

 

Timmy snorts at that, obviously thinking he’s joking, or crazy, or maybe both.  But when Armie just levels him with a calm but unwavering look, Timmy’s expression sobers and he nods again.  He turns his head to kiss Armie’s shoulder.  “Sure, if that’s what you want.  I’m sure that would be fine.  And two?” 

 

He can both see and hear Timmy’s hesitation, obviously worried about whatever the second condition of his continuing on might be.  But Armie just gives him a sweet smile.  “And two: We get to keep doing _this_ …” He gestures between them.  “…for as long as you are willing to put up with me.”

 

Timmy’s smile is immediate and so wide, it looks like it must hurt.  He nods happily and throws himself onto Armie, bringing their mouths together in a messy kiss.  When he pulls back enough to speak again, he breathes his answers directly into Armie’s waiting mouth.

 

“Deal.”

**Author's Note:**

> So now for the good news! This fic serves as a prologue of sorts to another, longer series I will be doing chronicling the end of the European promo tour, and also exploring some other possible fun adventures the boys may have had during that time. So stay tuned for the first chapter of that coming hopefully soon! :D


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